


Summer Flowers

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (secret) shipper trash Dís, Durin Family Feels, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Thorin is a Softie, gardener au, gardener!bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-10 17:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: “So that’s your gardener’s name? Bilbo?”“Bilbo Baggins, and he’s our gardener. Don’t give me that look, Thorin Durin! He’s been recommended to me by Gandalf –”“Now that changes everything …”“… and not only has he made great progress in the short time he’s here, but he’s also a very nice man and considerate enough to put some flowers in your room at your return although I warned him how … stubborn you can be.”Thorin noticed the little pause very well. “You called me an idiot, didn’t you?”





	1. Planting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nerdeeart](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nerdeeart), [badskippy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/gifts).



> Here it finally is, the first chapter of the gardener AU ^-^
> 
> As with the waiter!Thorin AU, I have to thank two wonderful people in this fandom: Nerdee with their lovely art who inspired this idea, and Badskippy for asking the (in)famous question: Shall we take the challenge? (It's actually not as much as a challenge as a real real joy)!
> 
> Since this fic will be rather long, I've decided to split it up into several chapters - the first will be some kind of short(er) introduction, the second chapter will be the main part (fluff fluff fluff!), and the last chapter ... well, wait and see ;)

It was good to be home again.

Waking up in his own bed after having been away for three weeks was pleasant enough for Thorin to linger, and he enjoyed the familiar sight of his bedroom. The curtains weren’t completely closed; there was a little gap, and sun beams found their way through it. It promised to be a lovely spring day. A bird was chirping in front of the window, and if Thorin listened closely he could hear Dís rummaging around in the kitchen. The prospect of a steaming cup of coffee and a hearty breakfast was tempting enough to get him out of bed.

 _I’ve missed this_ , Thorin thought as his feet touched the smooth wooden floor, _talking with Dís about the plans for the day at the breakfast table, listening to the stories of the boys when they are back from school, hearing them laugh while I’m in the workshop …_

Not that he hadn’t enjoyed his business trip, no. But three weeks were a long time, and he wasn’t used to travelling anymore. It had been ages since he had been separated from his family.

As a jeweller, Thorin wasn’t away often, maybe once or twice a year to visit a trade fair. He always enjoyed talking with colleagues from other countries, though, as well as learning new techniques from them and looking for materials to work with. The trade fair in the Iron Hills he had been to had not lasted three weeks, of course, but he had attended a workshop after the fair, and then he had visited his cousin Daín to assist him with a technical expertise. Thorin excelled in his craft, and he had been relieved that almost two years of not being to any fairs or seminars hadn’t done any harm to his reputation.

When he entered his small living room, his eyes fell upon a bouquet of flowers on the side table next to the couch. He was surprised at the sight of the colourful, perfectly arranged bouquet. Neither he nor Dís knew much about flowers, and he wouldn’t have expected his family to get him such a gift to welcome him home. Yet there was something about the flowers that made him smile, and he went into the bathroom with a hum on his lips.

The first level of the house was his little realm. There were his own two rooms, a guest room (although it had more resemblance to a storage room), a bath and his workshop. Most of the time he worked in town, in the jewellery shop he owned together with his cousins Balin and Glóin and their friend Bifur. But Thorin liked to work on jewellery on the evenings as well, and crafting at home also had the advantage of being able to take care of the boys.

Eventually Thorin entered the kitchen, washed and clad in a fresh black t-shirt and jeans, still humming to himself.

“Good morning”, he greeted his sister. Dís was alone in their kitchen, and she had already placed a cup of coffee on his place at the table. “Fíli and Kíli are still asleep?”

Dís chuckled. “I guess they’ll stay in bed for a while longer today.”

Thorin smiled as she sat down with him and offered him a slice of toast. It had been late when he had arrived the day before, but his nephews had climbed out of their beds to see him nonetheless. He was pretty sure that they had been too excited to fall asleep soon.

“I missed them”, he said after a sip of coffee. “And you of course, dearest sister.” She only raised an eyebrow at that, and Thorin added: “I wouldn’t dare to say anything else after you got such a lovely bouquet of flowers to welcome me home.”

Now she grinned. “My dearest brother”, she replied, gently mocking him with the address, “you are perfectly aware of how little I know about plants, and still you think that I got flowers for you – for you who knows even less about plants than I do?”

Thorin let his cup sink. It was true that both of them knew next to nothing about flowers, but who else should have gotten them? It couldn’t have been Fíli’s or Kíli’s idea. They would rather have gotten a box of chocolates for him, hoping that he would share it with them.

“And to whom do I owe this gift now?” Seeing the mischievous twinkle in his sister’s eyes, he added: “And don’t you dare telling me some nonsense about a secret admirer.”

Dís took her time with answering, and she enjoyed a long sip of her coffee before finally saying: “You owe this gift to the gardener.”

“The gardener?” Thorin shook his head half in amusement, half in disbelief. “You lost no time, that’s for sure. When did he begin his work? Five minutes after I had left the house?”

They had discussed quite a lot about their garden lately. There were actually two gardens to their house. One was more of a lawn, a small area of grass that framed their terrace. From there, some mossy stone steps led further down into what they used to call their jungle. It simply couldn’t be called a garden for it was basically weeds and brambles – and _lots_ of weeds and brambles at that. Maybe the jungle had been a proper garden once, full of flower and vegetable beds, but Thorin couldn’t remember it like this. To him, it had always been a mass of roots and thorns, even when he had been a small child that could only master the big stone steps with the help of his father or grandfather.

But then Dís had begun to muse how nice having an actual garden would be, and what a shame it was to let the weeds sprawl like that. She had thought about hiring a gardener who could help, maybe even teach them – she always included Thorin in the garden plans as well. He had only listened half-heartedly to her, though. His sister had as little talent for gardening as he had – flowers were more likely to wither than prosper under her care, and he couldn’t imagine that any vegetables she might grow could actually be edible.

And then Dís had started to play unfair.

“You know”, she had said almost casually one evening after they had brought the boys to bed, “if we would manage to turn the garden into something that deserves this name now, we would be able to celebrate their birthdays down there – a proper party, with their friends and a table full of sweet treats and cake, and lots of space for them to play …”

She knew that Thorin wouldn’t say no to his nephews or anything that would bring a smile to their faces. They were three years apart – Fíli was nine, Kíli was six –, but both of them were born in late summer, only a few days apart. They always celebrated together, and Thorin couldn’t deny how lovely it would be for them to have a big party this year indeed. After all they had hardly celebrated last year, with the loss of their father and their younger uncle still so fresh …

So Thorin had agreed to Dís’ plan to look for a gardener. “Just don’t get me involved into that mess”, he had grumbled, trying to ignore her satisfied grin. He hadn’t expected her to act so quickly, but she was right: Even a professional gardener couldn’t work miracles on their jungle in a few weeks. Although …

“So that’s where the flowers in my room come from?”, he asked. “From our garden? From the jungle?”

Dís rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a fool. He’s a gardener, not a wizard. They’re from Bilbo’s own garden.”

“So that’s your gardener’s name? Bilbo?”

“Bilbo Baggins, and he’s _our_ gardener. Don’t give me that look, Thorin Durin! He’s been recommended to me by Gandalf –”

“Now that changes everything …”

“… and not only has he made great progress in the short time he’s here, but he’s also a very nice man and considerate enough to put some flowers in your room at your return although I warned him how … stubborn you can be.”

Thorin noticed the little pause very well. “You called me an idiot, didn’t you?”

His sister smiled friendly at him and took another sip from her cup. “Gandalf praises Bilbo highly. He’s a very talented gardener. He used to tend the flower beds in the town park. But he can’t work there full-time anymore – the budgetary cuts, you know –, so Gandalf helped him to look for additional employment.”

“And that’s how he ended up in the jungle”, Thorin assumed. “I wonder if he cursed Gandalf the first time he saw the mess down there.”

“Don’t be so sarcastic, Thorin. I bet you will think better of the whole garden project once you’ve met Bilbo. I’ll introduce you to each other. So hurry and eat up!”

Thorin grumbled, but listened to his sister nonetheless – she might have called him stubborn, but he could be obedient like a child at the promise of a sweet treat in comparison to her.

So he ended up standing in their garden only a short while later, trying not to stare at the man opposite of him.

Bilbo Baggins looked as if he had stepped right out of a children’s book. He was smaller than Thorin, not even reaching up to his shoulder, with bright eyes and a mouth that seemed to laugh often and readily. His pleasantly round face was partly shadowed by a straw hat that sat atop his copper-coloured curls. The thing was enormous, with a big rim and a red ribbon around it, and flowers were tucked into it. There was soil on the knees of his trousers as well as on his green apron – the white shirt with the rolled-up sleeves didn’t have as much as a stain on it, though. The gardener quickly took off one of his gloves before holding out his hand.

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service”, he introduced himself in a cheerful voice.

Thorin shook the offered hand while trying not to stare at the straw hat. How strange that it looked rather becoming on the gardener’s head … very becoming, if he was honest. In fact, there was something rather charming about Mr Baggins, and Thorin at once got the impression that he was the kind of guy who positively belonged into nature.

He found back into the here and now when Mr Baggins spoke again.

“I hope you enjoyed your journey, Mr Durin. Three weeks though! That’s a long time, and surely returning home to your family feels good as well?”

Thorin blinked at the small man, wondering that he said aloud what he had thought to himself after getting up not even an hour ago.

But Mr Baggins already chatted on in an easy manner: “It sounds exciting, though – fair trades and workshops about crafting techniques, and expert reports …And the Iron Hills! They’re quite impressive, I’ve been told.”

“I’m sorry”, Thorin interrupted him, “but have we already talked before?” He got the strange feeling that this man knew quite a lot about him whereas he had only learned of their gardener’s existence a few minutes ago.

“My apologies”, Mr Baggins explained with a bashful laugh. His nose twitched, and Thorin noticed the freckles on it. “Your sister and your nephews have told me so much about you that it feels like I’ve already met you.”

“I see”, Thorin replied shortly, and he was quite proud of himself for not glaring at Dís.

“And? What do you think about your garden so far?”, Mr Baggins asked with a sweeping gesture. “Already more of a proper garden, don’t you agree?”

Considering that he had only been at work for three weeks he had achieved a lot indeed. The weeds and brambles were gone, and Thorin wondered how the small man had managed to tear them out of the ground. But he had managed, and a lot more at that. He had already prepared a few patches of soil, and for the first time ever Thorin thought that their garden looked exactly like that: a garden.

“I will be honest, Mr Baggins”, Thorin began, and he could feel Dís staring at him, “I doubt that your efforts will have a lasting effect. My sister told me she wants to learn from you this spring and summer so she will be able to take care of the garden on her own. And I’m afraid that will already be the end of our garden again.”

The gardener had listened to him with wide eyes, and suddenly he was the very definition of disappointment. Even the flowers on his hat seemed to droop. He looked so sad and hurt that Thorin found himself hurrying to say: “But even someone like me who knows little of plants can see that you’ve achieved a lot. And”, he added, somewhat softer now, “since it’s for the boys and their birthday party …”

As if they knew they had been mentioned, Fíli and Kíli appeared at the head of the stairs, waving and shouting not only for their mother and uncle, but for “Mr Bilbo” as well and saving Thorin from the continuation of this awkward talk. Dís was already on her way towards them, trying to stop them from coming down and keeping the gardener from his work. Thorin nodded at him before turning to follow her, but he stopped when Mr Baggins spoke again.

“From what Fíli and Kíli told me about you, I was almost expecting some kind of superhero.”

Thorin frowned, not sure if the gardener had just teased or insulted him. Was he trying to say that he had expected someone else, and that he was disappointed? But his voice held no reproach, and when Thorin turned to look at him he was met with an open friendly face.

He mumbled something in return – a good-bye or something the like, he wasn’t sure – before returning to his sister and nephews.


	2. Growing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Baggins was kneeling at one of the flower beds. He didn’t take any notice of Thorin, but looked at something small in his cupped hands. A little sapling, he realized. Mr Baggins had brought his hands close to his face, and the expression Thorin saw on it was infinitely tender, so caring. The fond eyes, the little smile – the sight seemed to wake something deep inside of him ...

The days went on, and Thorin didn’t see their gardener for a while. Balin, Glóin, and Bifur were glad that he was back at the shop, and Thorin felt quite the same. As much as he enjoyed being at home again – he could barely sit down in his own little workshop without Fíli and Kíli coming after him and demanding their uncle’s attention. He gave it to them gladly, but there was also a bunch of commissions waiting for him to work on.

Still, Thorin was aware of their gardener’s presence.

Mr Baggins wasn’t around every day, but whenever he was he brought them some flowers: one bouquet for Dís which she used to place in their living room, and one for Thorin. It always stood on the side table in his living room, just like the first bouquet had, but Thorin never saw anyone putting it there. It was as if he was regularly visited by a burglar – a burglar who didn’t take anything, but left something for him.

_Today’s bouquet looks very pretty_ , he thought while taking a step closer, _bright and cheerful. Like him._ There was something welcoming about the red and pink flowers, and he found himself bending closer to inhale their scent. He laughed quietly about himself as he took a deep, almost comical sounding sniff. He must look ridiculous – he, a grown-up man, smelling flowers like a love-struck teen! And yet he lingered, taking in their scent. It was rich, but not obtrusive, and it made him feel warm and comfortable.

Thorin drew back, but instead of going into his workshop he stepped onto his little balcony. It opened on the garden, and from there he could see their gardener’s small figure with that incredibly big hat moving around. He watched him for a while before returning into the house.

When he sat down in his workshop, the vase with the flowers stood on the edge of his table, and their gentle scent rose into his nose as he began to craft.

It was his day off at the shop, but lots of orders had gathered while he had been away, a good part of them directly addressed to him. But he wasn’t only working on them because he had to catch up, no – he enjoyed his craft immensely, and he liked to watch how a gem, already beautiful in its raw condition, turned into something delicate under his fingers. He had loved his craft once, but nowadays he thought that ‘love’ wasn’t the right word, not anymore. His work was too strongly mingled with melancholy, reminded him too much of Frerin. Frerin who had shared his passion, but who liked to try out new techniques and forms whereas Thorin preferred the classic ones. Frerin who would laugh at the flower bouquet at his desk and tease him, would ask him if he had a secret admirer … just to be happy for him if he had one indeed.

Thorin sighed, shook his head to get rid of such memories and concentrated on the gems in front of him again. This time it worked, and he got absorbed in his craft.

It needed something very loud to bring him back into the present if he was in this state of concentration – like his nephews’ voices. He looked up from the gem in his hands, blinking in surprise that he hadn’t even noticed Dís driving away to pick them up from school. But the hubbub downstairs told him that it was time for lunch, and his stomach growled audibly at this notion.

When he arrived in the kitchen, however, Dís was there alone, overseeing pans and pots. “Paws off”, she scolded Thorin as he tried to peek over her shoulder. “I just managed to convince Fíli and Kíli to get out of here and to wash their hands, and now you’re here to bother me? Please do something useful instead and fetch Bilbo, would you?”

“He joins us for lunch?”

“Of course! I won’t let him go hungry. Although …” Dís made a vague gesture with her cooking spoon. “It’s the first time he will eat with us, actually. So far he has only been here for half a day, and I only invited him for tea or a snack.” She cocked an eyebrow at him without stopping to stir in the pot. “Any objections?”

Thorin snorted. “Don’t make me sound like some pompous nobleman who doesn’t want a peasant at his table.”

She chuckled. “That’s your comparison, not mine.”

He was on his way into the garden before she could say more. Again he was impressed at their gardener’s progress: By now he had prepared the patches, and they were cleverly – and quite artistically – arranged at that. It wasn’t just one big area of soil or a simple row. The beds were of different sizes, and it was possible to walk between them, the kind of garden one would rather expect to see at some historical mansion. Some of the patches already contained more than just soil: There was a little one with herbs, and flowers were blooming in another one.

Mr Baggins was kneeling at one of the beds. He didn’t take any notice of Thorin, but looked at something small in his cupped hands. A little sapling, he realized. Mr Baggins had brought his hands close to his face, and the expression Thorin saw on it was so … so infinitely tender, so caring. Thorin felt as if he had barged into an intimate moment, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away. The gardener’s face beneath the broad rim of the straw hat kept him enthralled. The fond eyes, the little smile – the sight seemed to wake something deep inside of him, but before he could think properly about what it was, Mr Baggins looked up.

“Oh, Mr Durin”, he greeted him, “how nice to see you! Can I do something for you?”

Thorin turned bright red under this gaze. “I”, he began, but the words fled him as he realized that he had been staring at their gardener. “My sister”, he tried again – and he had been caught by said gardener! The silence lengthened, and Mr Baggins tilted his head to one side questioningly. At least he was still smiling softly … although that didn’t help Thorin to clear his mind. But finally some words that made sense came over his lips in one rush. “Dís has sent me to get you – to catch you for lunch.”

“And you came all the way down here by yourself to tell me? That’s very kind of you, Mr Durin.”

“Thorin”, he croaked. “Please, call me Thorin.”

“Okay … Thorin.” The gardener smiled at him. “I’m Bilbo, by the way.” He nodded towards the little sapling in his hands. “I’ll be ready in a few moments.”

Instead of simply acknowledging that answer with a shrug and heading back into the house, Thorin stayed. He watched how Mr Baggins – Bilbo – placed the sapling into a hole he had already prepared before covering it with soil. Every single movement of his hands was cautious and gentle, as if he was touching something very fragile. It probably was very fragile, this little sapling … But Bilbo didn’t look anxious, quite the contrary: The soft smile never left his lips, and he was quietly humming to himself.

When his work was done, he looked tenderly at the little sapling before eventually getting up. He gifted Thorin with another bright smile. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

Thorin mumbled something incomprehensible, and neither of them said anything as they went back to the house. They stopped for a moment on the terrace, and Bilbo took off his mud-covered boots and his green apron.

They were welcomed by the smell of battered fish, roasted vegetables and potatoes. Bilbo’s stomach grumbled, and he laughed a little bashfully.

“That smells deliciously! But”, he raised his hands; they had stains of soil on them although he had worn gloves.

“The bathroom’s down there.”

“Thank you, Thorin.” With a quick smile, the gardener was on his way. Thorin in turn went into the kitchen. Dís had already filled two plates and carried them towards the table. Fíli and Kíli sat there, waiting for her longingly. The pans still hissed, the pots bubbled, it was the usual lunch-time chaos. Yet Dís managed to cast a wry smile at him.

“Thank you, _Thorin_ , eh?”         

“Oh, shut up”, he muttered, but not quiet enough for the boys to overhear. They giggled, but fell silent as they felt his eyes upon them, and suddenly the food had their undivided attention. Dís acted as if nothing had happened and filled more plates for Thorin to take to the table.

Eventually there was a shy knock at the doorframe, and all four of them turned to see.

Bilbo stood in the doorway and smiled at them. He was barefoot, and the big straw hat was gone from his head, he twisted it between his fingers instead. He looked small and a bit forlorn, almost like the flowers in Thorin’s workshop. There was something about this sight that made Thorin forget the plates he carried.

The silence only lasted for a moment, though, before Kíli waved at the gardener. “Mr Bilbo! Will you sit next to me?”

“Come, sit down.” Thorin put the dishes on the table and pointed towards the free spot between Fíli and Kíli on the bench seat. Bilbo, still carrying his hat in his hands, stepped closer. Thorin took the straw hat from him, and he placed his free hand on Bilbo’s back and gently nudged him towards his place. He heard Dís snicker – at least she tried to cover it with a cough –, but the sound was almost lost to his ears. Everything around him suddenly seemed pale in comparison to the warmth beneath his palm. He thought to feel the sun that had been shining on his back while he had been busy in the garden. It was a pleasant feeling – a very pleasant one –, and it actually took Thorin some effort to withdraw his hand before the situation could turn awkward … or more awkward than it already was.

Thorin felt strangely uneasy as he sat down opposite of their gardener and concentrated on the dish in front of him. The weird moment didn’t last long, though: It seemed a squirrel in the school’s courtyard had distracted Fíli’s whole class, and Kíli knew everything about it although his classroom was at the opposite side of the building. Bilbo listened full of delight to their stories and promised to show them some tricks how they could lure squirrels. Dís protested at the prospect of such a pet and tried to change the topic. She mentioned how much she was already looking forward to gathering the first herbs from their garden, and soon she and Bilbo talked amicably about cooking. Thorin suspected that his sister would have to look into her cookbooks soon – Bilbo mentioned so many names of herbs he had never heard of before, and he couldn’t imagine that Dís was familiar with even half of them.

He only listened half-heartedly, so he was rather surprised when Bilbo addressed him all of a sudden.

“You’re very quiet, Thorin. Does something bother you?”

He blinked at the gardener, trying to catch up with the talk.

“When uncle’s looking like that”, Fíli answered in his stead, “he’s thinking about his work. He always makes that face then.”

The boy’s voice held no reproach, yet Thorin flinched. He knew very well that he spent much time occupied with his work, even when he was at home. He had worked more than was usual the last weeks, having to catch up on the orders that had gathered while he had been away. But the truth was that he always spent a great part of his time bowed over gems, carving and cutting and polishing. About two years ago it had been a necessity – with Frerin and his brother-in-law so suddenly gone he had felt the need to provide for his family. They managed well by now, and he didn’t work until late at night anymore. He still worked much, though. It was normal.

He had thought to always have enough time for his nephews – in fact, he had made sure to do so, and he had got the impression that both Fíli and Kíli were happy with the situation as it was. Could it be that they were not?

Thorin didn’t know how to respond to that. The silence threatened to turn uncomfortable, but it was Bilbo who managed to avoid that.

“I imagine that jewellery made by your hand is in high demand. My cousin got married last year, and her wedding ring was made by you. She adores it.”

Thorin managed a weak smile. “Thank you. It’s always great to hear that one’s craft is appreciated.”

Bilbo returned the smile, and Thorin, thinking about what he had just said, promised himself to go into the garden more often, and to look at the progress there with more attention.

After all, Bilbo was a crafter just like him.

“Speaking of crafting”, the gardener continued, “I hope you don’t mind me starting this over lunch, but is it possible to commission you?”

The fork stopped on its way to Thorin’s mouth. “Yes …?”, he said tentatively, quite surprised about such a question. He had not expected their gardener to have any interest in gems; at least he didn’t wear any jewellery.

Delighted, Bilbo clapped his hands. “That’s wonderful news! You see, I was thinking about a gift for –” He trailed off as Thorin rose his hands to stop the upcoming flood of words.

“Why don’t we discuss this after lunch? We could go into my workshop to talk about it in peace”, he suggested, causing his nephews to stare at him with open mouths.

“But uncle!”, Fíli exclaimed. “You never let anybody into your workshop.”

“ _We_ are never allowed to go in”, his younger brother added reproachfully. “Why is Mr Bilbo allowed to go into your workshop?”

“Because Mr Bilbo is a customer, not somebody who mistakes my tools and gems for toys.”

“But they are _shiny_ ”, Kíli sniffed as if that explained everything.

“Here, darling, have some more potatoes”, Dís said softly, and with that the topic was over and done with, and they continued lunch while chatting easily.

When the plates were empty, Thorin got up to help his sister with clearing the table. Dís, however, patted his arm. “Don’t worry about that. You’ve got a customer to take care of, haven’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but she looked perfectly innocent, and he suppressed a sigh. “Well then. Bilbo, will you come with me?”

“Sure.”

Followed by the boys’ longing glances, they went upstairs. When Thorin opened the door to his workshop he realized how long it had been indeed since anybody but himself had entered it. He covered his sudden uneasiness by pointing towards a stool. It was almost hidden beneath boxes, but he quickly put them away, and Bilbo sat down. The gardener’s gaze found the flower bouquet on the table, and a smile spread on his face.

“So, ahem”, Thorin coughed, “you were talking about a gift?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right. You see, I would like a gift for my mother’s birthday. A brooch would be nice, I think.”

Thorin scratched his neck while his eyes wandered along the drawers with his supplies, making a mental list of gems that would be suitable for such a piece of jewellery. “Have you thought about the design already?”

“I have indeed. You see, my mother loves roses …” Bilbo broke off, he had obviously noticed Thorin’s frown. “I’m sorry if I’ve said something wrong … I mean, _is_ something wrong?”

“It’s just … well. I’m not really used to crafting flowers, you see. I don’t know much about the composition of roses …”

To his surprise, Bilbo’s expression softened at this explanation. “There are roses growing in your garden now”, he said.

“Which means I could study them”, Thorin thought aloud. “Hm, that could actually work. It will take some time, though.” He cast a glance at the gardener. “When is your mother’s birthday?”

“Oh, it’s still some time to go. It’s only in summer.”

Thorin nodded. “Okay. I will give it a try.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Bilbo smiled as brightly as if he had already been presented with the finished piece. “If you’ve got any questions about roses, just ask me, okay? I’m glad if I can help!”

The jeweller nodded once more. When he watched Bilbo getting up to return to his own work, though, he got the feeling that he had somehow been outsmarted. After all he had just promised to spend more time in the garden, and with their gardener at that.

He couldn’t help smiling.

 

***

 

A few days later, Thorin sat cross-legged in the garden, his sketchbook on his lap and a rose mere inches away from his face. His pencil scratched slowly over the pages, not with quick, strong brushes as was his habit. He took his time to study the rose, and steadily he filled the pages with sketches, from the flower as a whole as well as from different parts and angles.

His first idea had been to simply pick one of the roses and take it into his workshop to study it, but once he had been in the garden he had thought that it would be nice to stay, and the fact that Bilbo was quietly humming to himself in another corner of the garden had nothing to do with his decision.

Thorin turned the page to start another sketch, but when he looked up his gaze fell on the gardener. He seemed to be absorbed in his work, and he looked incredibly happy while tending the plants. Thorin wouldn’t be surprised if a bird, enchanted by his humming, would come flying to rest at his shoulder.

The pencil between Thorin’s fingers began to move, and slowly, almost reverently another sketch came to life.

 

***

 

Thorin had promised Dís that he would do alright, and he was determined to make a good figure as sole caretaker of Fíli and Kíli.

At first his sister had been reluctant to go on a short holiday at all, her mind being far too inventive in imagining things that could go horribly wrong if Thorin was left alone with the boys. But the voucher she had got from their friends as a birthday gift had been in the drawer far too long – not forgotten, but ignored. It would be a shame to let it expire, and if anyone deserved a wellness holiday then it was definitely Dís. Thorin had assured her at least a dozen times that it was fine, that he was able to take care of Fíli and Kíli for three days, and that she should please stop seeing him as completely incompetent. And finally, Dís had given in.

The first day was almost over, and so far nothing had happened to justify her concerns – although it had to be said that neither Thorin nor his nephews had spent much time at home. In the morning, Thorin had brought the boys to school before he had driven into the jewellery store. He had worked there for several hours – it had been a no-flowers-on-the-side-table-day, and Thorin hadn’t been very keen on having the house for himself for almost the whole day. He wasn’t used to such a thing anymore. There had always been someone around him, or at least within earshot. Even when the boys weren’t around but at school, Dís used to be there, or her husband, or Frerin … back then, before the car accident.

But the next days, Bilbo would be around, and the boys would only be at school until midday. Thorin had picked up some supplies so he could work from home – it was actually enough to keep him busy for a whole month, Balin had stated drily. He was doing his best, Thorin mused while he waited in front of the school, to work less, but it seemed he just couldn’t escape himself.

“Hello, Thorin. Is Dís enjoying her holiday?” He blinked in surprise as Bilbo approached him with a smile. It was strange to see him outside of their garden, without that ridiculously big hat on his head, but wearing jeans, a green t-shirt and a red hoodie instead.

Eventually Thorin found his speech again. “Ahem, yes, I think so. She left yesterday afternoon and only called once.” He smirked. “It seems the hotel is nice enough to distract her from her constant worries.”

Bilbo returned the smile, and Thorin struggled to find something else to say. “You’re here to pick someone up as well?” _Very elaborate, Thorin. What else should he do? And just why does his smile make you so flustered?_ “I, ahem, didn’t know you had children.” _What do I know about you apart from the fact that you’re our gardener – and that I seem to be in some trouble because of you?_

Bilbo shook his head, and there was only one logical explanation why Thorin felt such relief at the gesture. “I’m here to pick up my nephew.” He smiled again. “Look, there he is already.”

A little boy about Kíli’s age walked towards them. “Hello, uncle Bilbo”, the boy said quietly and took Bilbo’s hand. His blue eyes looked somewhat warily at Thorin.

“Frodo, my dear”, Bilbo bent down and greeted him with a peek on the forehead, a caress that made the boy giggle and Thorin’s heart skip a beat. “Frodo, this is Mr Durin. I told you about him, you remember?” And what did that mean – Bilbo was talking about him? “I work for him. He’s here to pick up his nephews, Fíli and Kíli. Maybe you know them?”

The boy nodded shyly, clinging to the hem of Bilbo’s t-shirt. The gardener smiled and gently patted Frodo’s dark curls. “He’s a bit timid … But don’t worry, Frodo, Mr Durin’s a nice guy.” Could this man ever say a sentence without making Thorin feel so … so flustered?

At least Thorin was saved from finding an appropriate reaction by Fíli and Kíli. They stormed towards him, already shouting and waving, and they were even more excited when they noticed “Mr Bilbo”.

“Boys”, Thorin gently chided them as they began to tell him of the day’s events, “Mr Bilbo has to take his nephew home, and we should get on our way, too.”

“But uncle”, Kíli said, lengthening the words, “what about our ice cream?”

“You promised us ice cream”, Fíli added longingly.

“I know”, Thorin began, but before he could explain that they had ice cream at home and that they would eat it later, his nephews got unexpected support from Bilbo.

“That’s a good idea! I know a nice ice cream parlour not far from here … Would you like that, Frodo?” The boy nodded, and Bilbo declared cheerfully: “Then it’s settled. Let’s get some ice cream together, shall we?”

The parlour was very nice indeed, and they had so many delicious-looking kinds of ice cream that even Fíli and Kíli, who usually took their favourite ones, had trouble with their choice. The seller, however, was endlessly patient, and eventually the three boys had their cones with two scoops.

When it was Thorin’s and Bilbo’s turn to choose, he turned to the gardener. “May I invite the both of you?”

“That’s very generous of you.” Bilbo looked at him as if he was searching for something. Thorin began to feel queasy under his gaze, but then the gardener smiled brightly. “Can I have two scoops of ice cream as well, please?”

Thorin laughed. “Of course!”

Bilbo had quickly decided and looked at his cone with strawberry and chocolate macadamia ice cream, excited like a little child. He tried and uttered a content moan that made Thorin blush.

“Would you like to try?”

“Eh?” Thorin couldn’t bring himself to say more, he was too distracted by the tip of a pink tongue licking over soft lips.

“The chocolate macadamia one. Chocolate ice cream is your favourite one, isn’t it? Fíli told me. Here, have a try.” Bilbo offered him his cone. It was delicious indeed, but the flavour wasn’t as important as the bright eyes that watched him. They seemed to twinkle with fondness, and Thorin longed to trace the laughter lines around them. _I’m lost_ , he realized, _I’m lost for him._

Judging from the grin on the seller’s face, she too knew about Thorin’s crush on his gardener – or did he read too much into the way she wished them a lovely afternoon? She couldn’t notice what he himself had only realized moments ago, could she?

It was pleasantly warm outside, and they strolled through the pedestrian area while they enjoyed their ice cream. Fíli and Kíli were excited about everything and anything, it seemed, dragged Frodo with them and didn’t leave Thorin much time to think about what had happened in the parlour. He was actually glad for the distraction the boys provided. The sudden intensity of his feelings had startled him, and he was afraid that Bilbo would be able to read him like an open book if their eyes would meet.

When their cones had been eaten – and some faces cleared from ice cream smudges – he told his nephews that it was time for them to get home.

“But uncle!”, Fíli protested. “We haven’t told Mr Bilbo everything about our day yet!”

Kíli’s face was the definition of disappointment, but before he could complain as well, Bilbo appeased them: “I’ll be at your home tomorrow afternoon, so there’ll be plenty of time to tell me all the stories you can think of!”

“Promise?”, Kíli made sure, and Bilbo nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon”, he said. His eyes, however, lingered on Thorin.

Luckily for him, he didn’t have much time to think about their gardener during the remaining day. The boys kept him busy, at first with their homework, then with games, and cooking dinner as well as getting them ready for bed weren’t quick tasks either. Thorin himself slept soundly, and the only thing he remembered of his dreams was a sweetness that had nothing to do with ice cream.

There were no flowers in his living room the next morning, and he felt strangely disappointed at the sight of the empty vase. His mood improved, however, as he remembered that Bilbo would start working in the afternoon, and the smile with that he woke his nephews came to him easily. The preparations went more smoothly than the day before, and he drove the boys to school without any incidents. Unlike the day before, Thorin didn’t stop at the jewellery store, but did some grocery shopping and drove back home.

He sat down in his workshop, but instead of reaching for his tools, he just sat there for a while. To his own surprise, he stood up again and went into his living room, onto his small balcony to look down into the garden. He hadn’t done that in ages, simply standing there and enjoying the sight, and he wondered how a small gardener with a way too big hat had made him do so.

A phone call put an end to his musings, though – Dís wanted to make sure that he and the boys were alright, and after her call Thorin went back into his workshop to start crafting properly. This time it worked. Time passed quickly as he was bent over the gems, and soon he picked up Fíli and Kíli from school.

When the three of them entered the kitchen, Thorin’s eyes fell upon the bouquet of flowers on the table.

“Mr Bilbo has kept his promise!”, Kíli exclaimed merrily. “Can we go to see him?”

“After you’re done with your homework.”

Kíli pouted, and Fíli didn’t look much happier. They got their books without further protest, though, and Thorin sat down with them. While he helped them with their reading assignments, the subtle scent of the flowers rose into his nose, and he found himself frowning less often than he would usually in such a situation.

“Only one more task, and we’re done”, he finally observed. “You’re doing great, boys.”

“But uncle”, Fíli said, “can’t we stop for now and see Mr Bilbo? I mean, he’s been gardening for some while now, and he must be thirsty.”

Thorin hoped that the boys couldn’t see how his face turned pink. Goodness, how careless he was! Dís wouldn’t have made such a mistake, she always was a perfect host.

“Yes!”, Kíli chimed in. “Let’s bring a jar of lemonade to Mr Bilbo!”

“You’ll finish your homework first”, Thorin told them. “It’s only one more task.” He himself, however, got up and headed for the drawer with glasses.

“Hey!”, Kíli pouted as he saw that Thorin was pouring a glass of fruit juice. “That was our idea!”

“It’s just one glass, Kíli”, Thorin told him. “I’ll take it to Bilbo. You’re right, it isn’t nice to let him go thirsty any longer. But I’ll be back at once, and as soon as you’ve finished your homework we all bring him a full jar of lemonade, yes?” He looked at the boys, trying to hide a smile. “That is, if you’ll be alright for a few minutes without me.”

They told him loudly that they would manage without him very well – Thorin was reminded of his own discussion with Dís a while ago – and almost ushered him out of the room.

It was warm outside, and Thorin once more felt bad for not having thought about their gardener – well, not having thought that he might be thirsty.

When he stood in the garden, though, he realized that Bilbo was perfectly fine. He was watering the flowers with a bright yellow watering can, and Thorin wondered if his sister had bought this thing. She often joined the gardener in his work, and she even had a straw hat for herself – at least it wasn’t as big and colourful as his.

The smile on Bilbo’s face was even brighter than the can, and Thorin’s gaze was magically drawn to it. It was warm just like the late spring sun on his back. Bilbo in turn had only eyes for his protégés. He looked tenderly upon them, and from time to time he reached out to feel their leaves or petals between his fingers. Eventually he looked up, and Thorin wished to disappear in the ground.

“Hello”, Bilbo greeted him cheerfully. If he was startled that Thorin had gaped at him, then he was very good at hiding it.

“My apologies”, Thorin began, not sure for what to apologize actually. For not offering Bilbo something to drink earlier, his brain decided within seconds – otherwise he would have to admit that he had been ogling indeed. “I’m a bad host. I should have thought of this”, he raised the glass as if to prove a point, “earlier. To be true, Fíli reminded me of it.”

“That’s very sweet of you … both of you.” Bilbo put the watering can aside and accepted the glass from Thorin. “I didn’t notice how thirsty I am. I forget everything around me when I’m taking care of my flowers, including myself. So”, he pointed towards the different flower and vegetable beds, “what do you say?”

“I’m impressed.” Thorin wasn’t exaggerating, Bilbo had truly achieved a lot in the short while he had been at work. It was difficult to imagine that they stood in what they had used to call a jungle. Now there were pretty flower and vegetable patches, skilfully arranged and carefully tended. Everything was blooming: The flowers were bright and sweet-smelling, and the vegetables and fruits looked as if Thorin could just pick them and bite into them right now. There wasn’t any artificialness about it, though. The jungle had become a little paradise, and the sight was like balm for his soul. “There used to be nothing but brambles and useless weeds. But now it’s … pretty.”

Bilbo tilted his head as if he was expecting something more than just ‘pretty’. He took another sip of his juice, giving Thorin time to add something, but his mind was empty. What dominated his thoughts was the scent. At first he had thought it came only from the flowers, but now, with the gardener so close in front of him, he got the impression that it was Bilbo himself who smelled like a bouquet of flowers. But that couldn’t be … could it?

“Mr Bilbo, Mr Bilbo!”

Thorin looked up as he heard Kíli’s bright voice. He suppressed a sigh – of course they hadn’t waited for him to return. Why was he even surprised?

Both of them stood at the head of the stairs, Kíli waving at them while Fíli balanced a heavy-looking jug of lemonade. At least they had taken the plastic one – it was easier to carry, and if the worst happened there wouldn’t be any shards. Thorin’s heart did a frightened jump nonetheless as the boys began their way down into the garden, climbing down the big mossy stones.

And it was right to be afraid: On one of the last steps, Fíli slipped with a surprised cry. The jug he carried had hardly hit the ground when Thorin rushed to his nephew’s side. Fíli sat in the grass, his eyes wide. He hadn’t grasped entirely what had just happened, but he flinched as he saw the dirt and blood on his knee. His lips wobbled dangerously, but he tried to make a brave face.

“It’s just a scratch”, Thorin soothed him as he knelt down next to him, the spilled lemonade soaked his trousers. He gently patted Fíli’s shoulder. “Nothing to worry about. We’ll simply nurse it.”

Fíli nodded, still somewhat dizzy, but Thorin’s last remark was too much for Kíli. He began to cry loudly, afraid that his brother had to be taken into hospital. His sobs in turn increased Fíli’s fear, and Thorin had the dawning realization that Dís would never entrust him with her boys again.

“Hush, sweet pea.” Bilbo’s soft voice was like the gentle drops of summer rain. He knelt down on the grass opposite of Thorin, at Fíli’s other side. His cupped hands were filled with green leaves, and he gingerly pressed them to Fíli’s knee, talking quietly all the time. “These herbs will ease the pain at once. Can you already feel it? Take a deep breath, my dear. You too, Kíli. Don’t be afraid, come closer. Breathe in.”

Thorin, almost lulled by the gardener’s soothing voice, inhaled deeply as well, and the scent of the herbs cleared his mind immediately. He looked up into Bilbo’s face, but the gardener was concentrating on Fíli. He raised his head, however, as Thorin placed his hand on Bilbo’s.

“Thank you”, he said.

“Don’t mention it.” Bilbo showed him a quick smile, and he let his hand linger for a moment before he withdrew it again. Now it was Thorin who pressed the herbs against Fíli’s knee. They had calmed both boys indeed, and Fíli didn’t even squeak when his uncle gathered him in his arms and got up.

“Would you do me another favour, Bilbo? Would you look after Kíli for a few minutes?” Thorin wanted to nurse Fíli – although he avoided saying that aloud –, and this would probably upset Kíli.

Bilbo understood and nodded. Kíli realized as well that he wasn’t allowed to stay at his brother’s side and opened his mouth to protest.

The gardener, however, was quicker. “Will you help me, Kíli? I’d like to gather some more herbs for your brother. They will help him to get better. Let’s collect some and bring them to Fíli, okay?”

Kíli nodded slightly, and he let Bilbo take his hand to lead him towards the patch with the herbs. Thorin cast a thankful glance at the gardener before he carried Fíli back into the house.

The wound was a mere scratch indeed, thank goodness. Fíli flinched nonetheless as Thorin cleaned it with water and balm. He looked somewhat lost in the big armchair, but he managed a tiny smile when Thorin told him that there was no reason to worry. When he had finished applying a bandage to his nephew’s knee, he brought their foreheads together, causing Fíli to giggle.

“You’re very brave, my little gem.”

“You’re not angry at me? Because I didn’t listen to you?”

“I’m just glad that you’re feeling better now. I was really worried for you, Fíli.”

“I’m sorry, uncle.”

“It’s alright, darling. Just be careful for a few days now, okay?”

There was a knock at the door. Thorin turned to see Bilbo standing there, a hand on the shoulder of a still anxious-looking Kíli.

“Hello”, the gardener said softly. “How are you, Fíli? Your brother has something for you.” He gave the boy a little nudge, and he went forward. His cupped hands were filled with herbs, and he cautiously placed them under Fíli’s nose. Fíli in turn inhaled deeply while his little brother watched him expectantly.

“Do you feel better?”, he peeped.

“I do”, Fíli answered. Then, however, he frowned. “I’m hungry”, he said.

Thorin chuckled with relief. “I’ll go into the kitchen at once. It will take a bit until dinner is ready, so how about a cookie?” Fíli beamed at him, and he added in a low voice: “But only one. And don’t tell your mother, okay?” He pressed a kiss to the tip of Fíli’s nose before standing up and going to the drawer where Dís kept some sweet treats.

When he had given the boys their cookies – Kíli got one too, of course –, he turned to Bilbo. Now the gardener’s hands were filled with the herbs; he had taken them from Kíli so the boy could grab his cookie.

“Thank you”, he said again.

Bilbo only smiled at him and raised his cupped hands. “Would you like to smell them, too? You look as if you could need it.”

Thorin laughed, it sounded a bit shaky. “I’m a mother hen when it comes to the boys, I know.” He bowed over Bilbo’s hands nonetheless and took a deep breath. The scent was delicious, and he felt how the tension in his shoulders eased immediately. He was very close to Bilbo, but he didn’t consider it uncomfortable, quite the contrary: It added to the easiness he felt.

“I didn’t know you planted medical herbs in the garden”, he said, still bowed over Bilbo’s hands.

To his surprise, the gardener chuckled. He lowered his head as well and whispered: “To be honest, these here are used for cooking. But the ones I gave Fíli in the garden can really be used as medicine.”

“Speaking of cooking … Might I ask you for another favour?” Thorin scratched his neck. “I should prepare dinner, and usually that wouldn’t be a problem. But after that incident, I don’t want to leave the boys alone … As I said, I’m a mother hen. So, what I want to say …”

“I will look after them”, Bilbo promised him before he could turn his babbling into a proper question. With a wry smile, he put the herbs into Thorin’s hands. “Maybe you can use some of them.” When he saw Thorin’s helpless gaze, he added: “They are great with tomatoes.”

He returned the smile. “How about potatoes?”

“Hm, let me see.” Bilbo cupped Thorin’s hands with his own while he studied the herbs. His skin was soft, but he could also feel callouses on the gardener’s hands, similar to his own. It deemed him strange that their different professions were connected by such a small detail … yet there was something charming about that bond.

Bilbo’s grip disappeared way too early for his liking when the gardener showed him a certain leaf. “Use these”, he explained. “Crush them and add them to the potatoes a few minutes before serving. And tell me if you need any help.” He laughed. “Don’t try to thank me again! It’s my pleasure. Really.” He quickly closed Thorin’s hand around the herbs. “Just go into the kitchen already.”

Thorin did so, still amazed about the effect Bilbo’s touch had on him – and his smile, and his soft voice … He shook his head while he peeled the potatoes, but there was a smile on his own lips.

Just when had he fallen for their gardener? He didn’t know when it had happened, but he knew that it had happened – somewhere between him standing on his balcony and watching the small figure down in the garden, smelling the flowers on his side table, and sitting in the garden with his sketchbook while Bilbo took care of the plants. He didn’t have the impression that he had spent much time with their gardener altogether, and yet it had been more than enough to let him develop a crush on Bilbo.

_And a mighty one at that_ , he thought as his heart did a leap at one of Bilbo’s laughs. _It would be nice to have more of this_. He promised himself to spend more time with Bilbo, to talk to him, learn more about him. _After all_ , he nearly cut his finger at this realization, _I haven’t given Bilbo much opportunity to learn more about me in turn … not to mention return my feelings. But I’ll do better._

Dís would probably die from laughter. “Why do you have such problems with the sheer idea of hiring a gardener?”, she had asked him once. “Are you afraid that some murder will happen at our house because we’ve got one? Or that he’ll rob us?” At least he could tell her now that their gardener had turned out to be a thief indeed.

_But a very endearing thief_ , he thought as he listened to the happy squeals of his nephews.

Eventually he put the dish with the potato gratin into the oven, dried his hands on a dishtowel and went into the living room to join them.

He was awaited by a wonderful sight: Bilbo sat on the floor, with his back leaning against the armchair and a book on his lap. Fíli was huddling close to him on one side, Kíli on the other. The gardener quickly looked up as he heard Thorin enter, but the boys were so enchanted they didn’t seem to notice their uncle. Bilbo read on, and his voice brought wizards and kings and dragons to life. Thorin was enthralled by the way he altered his voice for the different characters, how he once spoke quietly and calmly just to hiss in the next moment. He sat down to listen for a while as well, and he was positively disappointed when he had to go back into the kitchen.

It was still warm outside, so he put the plates, cutlery and glasses on a tray and carried them out onto the terrace where he set the table. Bilbo had also been busy on the terrace, and there were some potted plants now. They were in full bloom, and Thorin took a moment to enjoy their sweet scent before entering the house again.

“Dinner’s ready in a moment”, he announced on his way back into the kitchen.

“One more chapter, please!”, Fíli begged.

Thorin chuckled. “Didn’t you say you were hungry? Come on, boys, let’s give Mr Bilbo a break. Wash your hands, and we’ll eat.”

The smell from the kitchen was tempting enough for his nephews to get up indeed, and Bilbo stood up as well.

“I guess it’s time for me to go home”, he began. “I mean, now that you’re done with cooking …”

He was interrupted by a joined “no!” from Fíli and Kíli, but before they could add more Thorin reminded them to wash their hands. Then he turned to Bilbo.

“They’re right, you don’t have to go already. Inviting you to dinner is the least I can do. After everything you did for m– for us today …”

Bilbo smiled at him. “I guess then I’ll have to wash my hands as well”, he said and followed the boys into the bathroom.

Soon they sat around the big table on the terrace, and Thorin’s efforts were rewarded with content sighs. Much to his delight, Bilbo was even more enthusiastic about the food than the boys.

“I simply love potato dishes”, he explained with a laugh, and Thorin treasured this piece of information.

“The herbs you gave me are fantastic”, he returned the compliment. “I guess Dís was right about the benefits of fresh ones.” He noticed that Fíli watched him intently. “Is everything alright, my dear? Does your knee still hurt?”

“No, I was just wondering … Can we have this more often? That Mr Bilbo helps you with cooking?”

“Oh. I …”

“That’s a great idea!”, Kíli chimed in. “The food tastes so good!”

Thorin looked at Bilbo. The gardener in turn cast a shy glance at him, and could it be that his cheeks had turned red?

“Maybe”, he answered vaguely, and to his relief his nephews didn’t question him further. Instead they began to talk about Bilbo’s work in the garden. He did his best to explain it in an easy way – Thorin was convinced that he didn’t do this for the boys alone, but for him as well. It was endearing to see how excited he got about his work.

“Now that I’ve seen what a talented gardener you are”, Thorin eventually remarked, “I can only imagine how impressive your own garden must look!”

Suddenly the smile on Bilbo’s face seemed to become strained. He took a sip of lemonade, probably to cover his uneasiness, and Thorin dreaded the possibility that he had said something terribly wrong.

When Bilbo eventually spoke his voice was quite easy, but there was an edge to it that didn’t go unnoticed to Thorin’s ears. “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. My own garden hardly deserves that name. It’s only a few patches, merely sufficient for some flowers. You see”, he made a vague gesture, “I live in a tenement, and the garden is there for everybody – which means there’s only little space for me to grow flowers and a few vegetables. But”, his face brightened up again, “that’s why it’s so amazing to tend your garden! It’s so big, and there’s so much I can do!”

“I’ve seen that you planted some kind of bush a few days ago. Can you tell me more about that? I’ve never seen that kind before.”

At first Bilbo looked surprised to hear such a question from Thorin of all people, but then he nodded.

“But uncle!”, Kíli whined. “Can’t Mr Bilbo read us another story before you talk about plants?”

“Don’t worry, Kíli”, Bilbo appeased him. “I know more fairy tales – and some of them are even about plants. Have you ever heard of Thumbelina? She grows from a tulip, and her bed is made from violet petals.”

“That’s a story for another day, though”, Thorin interrupted softly. “It’s getting late.” The plates had long been cleared, and soon it would be time to bring the boys to bed. Bilbo, too, declared that it was time for him to go home.

“You know”, he said as Thorin led him to the door, “apart from Fíli’s injury it was a lovely afternoon. I really enjoy playing with the boys, and dinner was delicious! I think I owe you something for it – a cake would be a good idea, don’t you agree?”

“Please, there is no need for that. I have to thank you.” Thorin hesitated. “And I … I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. About you only having a small garden.” Bilbo looked at him, obviously puzzled, and Thorin turned red under his gaze. “I think … Knowing that makes the flowers you share with us the more precious. You’re a very kind person, Bilbo Baggins.”

The confusion on Bilbo’s face had melted away while Thorin had spoken, and now something softer stood in his eyes. “Good night, Thorin”, he said quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next morning, Thorin found a bright, cheerful bouquet of flowers on the table in his living room, and there was a platter with deliciously looking strawberry cake on the kitchen table.

When Dís returned that afternoon, she found all four of them sitting on the terrace, eating cake together. And if she wondered about the way her brother smiled at their gardener, she was decent enough not to comment on it.

 

***

 

Thorin had only run the few metres from his car into the house, but it had been enough to soak the jacket he had held above his head as protection from the rain. There had only been a light drizzle when he had left the shop in town, but the rain had developed quickly – and rather unexpectedly – into a real summer storm. The drive home had been excruciatingly slowly, and he was glad to finally be back.

Thorin quickly went into his living room – he had opened the balcony door in the morning, and he didn’t know if Dís had closed it when the rain had begun. It turned out that she had, but Thorin approached it nonetheless, casting a look outside. It was pouring, and once more he was glad to have arrived at home already. Nobody wanted to be outside during such weather.

That was why he was so surprised to see a small, copper-haired figure running towards the house.

He rushed down into the living room. Bilbo stood on the terrace, trying to get rid of his mud-soaked boots, and looked up as Thorin tore open the glass door.

“Bilbo!”, he exclaimed. “What are you still doing outside? Come in, quick!”

“But”, the gardener protested half-heartedly, pointing vaguely at his soaked clothes. Thorin ignored his objection, though, and ushered him inside. He eyed him with concern: Bilbo looked incredibly small as he stood there, shivering and with a little pool of rain water already gathering at his feet.

“The storm”, he mumbled and lowered his gaze. “I’ve read in the weather forecast that it would get bad, but it came quicker than I expected. I hadn’t protected the plants yet, hadn’t covered them with a tarp. But there might even be hail, and …”

“Goodness, Bilbo!”

Both of them turned to look at Dís. She stormed into the room, staring at the gardener. “You’re soaked to the skin!”

“I was just about to get him a towel”, Thorin explained and earned himself a sharp glance.

“A towel”, Dís snorted. “That won’t be of much use. Come, Bilbo, we’ll get you into a warm bath, and you’ll stay with us for tonight.” She took his arm, ignoring his mumbled comments that this wasn’t necessary. “Nonsense. You’re here by bicycle, right? You can’t drive home through this heavy rain, and I won’t ask Thorin to drive you home either. We’ll prepare the guest room for you, that’s settled.”

She dragged Bilbo upstairs into the bathroom. Thorin followed in their wake although he headed for the guestroom instead. He would have to put away some boxes and other stuff if Bilbo should sleep in there.

He could hear Dís and their gardener while he cleaned up the guestroom, and he tried not to be distracted by Bilbo’s gentle laugh … or by the image of him soaking in the warm water and sighing with content …

“Thorin? Is everything alright?”

His thoughts were interrupted as Dís appeared at his side, carrying fresh blankets in her arms.

“Sure”, he replied after a moment of hesitation, lifted another box and walked past her to carry it into his workshop.

He didn’t return into the guestroom, but went into his own rooms. He smiled fondly as he saw the vase with flowers on the side table, and he took one, twisted it between his fingers. The petals were of a light blue, and he brought the flower to his face to enjoy its scent.

He almost dropped the flower when Dís came into his room without bothering to knock. She looked at him, delicately holding the flower and staring back at her.

She chose not to ask. “I’ll just grab one of your shirts and a pair of pants for Bilbo”, she announced instead and headed for his drawer.

“And you think my clothes will fit him?”

“At least they’ll keep him warm”, she remarked as she searched the shelves. And then, almost as if adding an afterthought, she said: “Oh, and when you’re done with smelling that lovely flower, could you go downstairs and look after Fíli and Kíli?”

Thorin took this chance to escape. His nephews had gathered around the table in the living room, and they were setting up a board game.

“Mum told us that Mr Bilbo will stay for a sleepover!”, Fíli explained with excitement.

“We can play games with him”, Kíli added cheerfully.

“That’s a lovely idea, boys.” Thorin smiled at them. “But Mr Bilbo is still taking a bath, so will you play a round with me at first?”

Of course they wanted to play, and Thorin sat down on the floor and reached for the dice as they generously declared that he was allowed to begin since he was the oldest of them. Playing with them turned into the usual chaos of laughing, bickering, and pretending he didn’t see that they tried to cheat.

Suddenly, however, the boys looked up. Thorin – who sat with the back to the door – turned around, and his mouth fell open as he saw Bilbo.

It was obvious that he had just taken a bath: His hair hadn’t dried completely yet and the curls clung to his neck, and his cheeks were blooming from the heat. Dís had found some clothes for him indeed: The old pair of sweat pants – Thorin assumed that it was one of Frerin’s – fit him rather well. Thorin’s long-sleeved shirt was too big, though. It slipped off his shoulder, thus revealing sun-kissed skin.

Thorin cursed himself for that last thought – it wasn’t very helpful to think of anything that had to do with Bilbo Baggins in terms of kissing. As if it wasn’t already difficult enough not to reach for him, to trail a finger along his collarbone and to bend closer to find out if the smell of the bathing oil had covered his very own scent –

“There’ll be plenty of time for that.”

He flinched as he heard Dís’ voice. Was it so clear that he was staring at the gardener? But she couldn’t possibly read his mind –

“Yes, mum.”

“Okay, mummy.”

Fíli’s and Kíli’s replies almost made him sigh with relief – they had obviously asked Bilbo to join the game already, and Dís had intervened. She handed Bilbo a bowl with chicken soup with noodles and vegetables. “Vegetables from our own garden”, she pointed out. She often cooked with herbs and vegetables from the former jungle now, and Thorin would have given up all concerns about the whole garden project by now at the latest. It was delicious, and Fíli and Kíli agreed with him – as did Bilbo, judging from the pleased look on his face as he ate.

Thorin concentrated on the game again when his nephews demanded his attention. He thought to feel Bilbo’s eyes on him, though, and was an easy challenge for his nephews in this distracted state. He was better in the next round, but when Bilbo eventually joined them he was helplessly lost: The gardener sat down next to him, his thigh brushing against Thorin’s, and now the jeweller noticed that the bathing oil hadn’t been intense enough to cover the distinct smell of flowers that seemed to belong to Bilbo. The scent rose into his nose whenever Bilbo leaned forward to get the dice or move his tokens. Thorin caught himself staring at the gardener’s bare shoulder more than once.

Apart from the fact that he spent the evening in a constant daze, it was a very lovely one. All five of them sat together while the rain splashed against the windows, the sound of the heavy drops lost amongst their laughter. It was wonderful to see how well Fíli and Kíli got along with Bilbo – they were a really good team against Thorin and Dís. Even his sister cried with laughter. It had been some time since he had seen her so carefree, and it warmed his heart.

Since it was Saturday, the boys were allowed to stay up longer, but eventually it was time for them to go to bed nonetheless. They protested at first, but agreed remarkably quickly when Bilbo promised them a bedtime story. They finally got to hear the story of Thumbelina, and they listened enchanted to every word Bilbo uttered – just like Thorin and his sister.

When the gardener had finished, Fíli and Kíli thanked him for his story, and Dís took them by the hands to bring them to bed. Suddenly Bilbo and Thorin were left alone in the room, and he was once more amazed how lovely the other man looked.

“A charming story”, he mumbled and began to put away the cards and tokens of the board games.

“Can I help you with cleaning up?”

“Thank you, but I’ll be alright. If you’re tired …”

Bilbo nodded. “I am indeed. Well then … good night.”

“Good night, Bilbo.”

The gardener stopped once more at the door. He looked over his bare shoulder back at Thorin, softly smiling. For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to say something, but then he left the living room without another remark.

A few minutes later Dís joined him again, and together they cleaned up.

“What an enjoyable evening”, she said after a while. “Fíli and Kíli are enamoured by Bilbo. I know that he’ll only be around until the end of summer, but … I hope he will visit us from time to time. I’ve grown fond of him.”

“I … know”, Thorin replied _. I’m fond of him, too_ , he wanted to say, _very fond_. Sometimes he wondered if it was obvious to see what he felt – but if it was, could Bilbo see it as well? Or did he choose to ignore it?

“You look tired, brother”, Dís observed gently, distracting him from this gloomy musings. “We’re almost done here, so why don’t you go to bed already?”

He showed her a smile. “Thank you. Good night, Dís.”

When Thorin entered his small living room, his eyes fell at the flower bouquet he had already admired earlier. That was why he didn’t notice the person standing on his balcony at once.

“Bilbo?”

He stepped closer. It was still raining although the worst seemed to be over, and it was chill. Nonetheless the gardener stood on the balcony, wearing nothing but the old pair of sweat pants and Thorin’s shirt.

He turned around as he heard Thorin’s voice. “Oh, Thorin”, he exclaimed, faintly blushing. “I’m sorry for coming into your rooms without letting you know.”

He smirked at the gardener. “Really? If I remember correctly, you’ve done so since the day we met. Actually you started sneaking into my rooms before we even met.”

Bilbo smiled back at him. “Then you also remember that I always leave a little token to let you know that I’ve been here.”

“Which I appreciate very much.”

Bilbo’s eyes lingered on him for some moments before he looked out into the night, down into the garden again. “It’s a wonderful sight”, he muttered. “I couldn’t resist having a look when I walked past your door. Just to enjoy it for a moment.”

“Please”, Thorin said while the heat rose into his cheeks, “take all time you need.”

To his surprise, the gardener chuckled. “You’re a very kind person, Thorin Durin”, he said fondly before turning towards the door. “I wish you sweet dreams.”

It took Thorin a long time to fall asleep, occupied with soft eyes and smiling lips and bare shoulders as his mind was. But then his dreams were very sweet indeed.


	3. Blooming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Take off your shoes. Feel the grass beneath your feet.”  
> Bilbo looked at him expectantly from beneath the big rim of his straw hat, waiting for him to take a step closer. Thorin, however, stayed where he was, rubbing his neck and looking somewhat helplessly at the neat flowers and ripe vegetables. “I’d rather stay where I am”, he mumbled. “I don’t know where to place my feet without doing any harm.”  
> “Don’t worry.” With a few paces, Bilbo was in front of him and took his hands. “I’ll guide you.”

It hit Thorin completely unexpected.

It was a warm summer afternoon, but the air was still humid with last night’s rain, and he was sitting in his workshop when he suddenly felt the longing to talk to Bilbo.

He had grown used to this – taking his sketchbook or a gem and some tools with him into the garden, sitting in the sun and being in the company of their gardener, talking to him and getting to know him better. His first awkward tries at small talk had earned him amused glances from Dís, but Bilbo had appreciated his interest. He could talk about everything and anything, but sometimes Thorin got the feeling that there were topics the gardener avoided – for example, he always seemed to be embarrassed that, in spite of being a gardener, his own garden was hardly more than two or three flower beds. Thorin didn’t push him although he delighted in every new thing he learned about the other man. He understood, however, that there were things one didn’t want to talk about. But with time, maybe …

The sudden strength of his longing to talk to Bilbo surprised him. It was almost painful – the more since Thorin knew it wouldn’t be fulfilled, not today. Bilbo had said to come today, but it had been raining heavily during the night, and Thorin thought the soil as well as the plants were still too wet to work with them properly. There had been some light summer showers throughout the morning as well – not like the tempest with heavy rain and hail –, but still it felt like an uncomfortable day for gardening.

The knowledge that Bilbo wasn’t there didn’t stop Thorin from getting up from his workbench. The house was empty and silent – Dís had gone shopping with Fíli and Kíli to get them some new clothes. He wandered into his living room and stepped onto the little balcony. The sun was shining right now, but the scent of rain hung in the air. He inhaled deeply and noticed another scent – a familiar one – the smell of flowers. Thorin left the balcony again to have a look at the side table.

And indeed: There was a bouquet of flowers on it. How could he ever have missed it? Thorin took another deep breath before he went into the garden.

“Hello, Thorin!” Bilbo gave him a broad smile as he approached him.

“Hello, Bilbo.” They looked at each other wordlessly, and suddenly Thorin didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. He might have felt the need to talk to Bilbo, but he hadn’t thought properly about it. He coughed as the silence threatened to become uncomfortable. “I … I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“But I told you I would come, didn’t I?”

“I … I know.” Thorin’s mouth went dry. “But after all the rain last night …”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I like gardening after some rain. The air still smells pleasant, don’t you agree?”

“It does”, Thorin commented lamely, desperately thinking about something intelligent he could say. Before he came up with an idea, however, Bilbo got up, and Thorin’s eyes were drawn to his feet. They were bare, covered with soil, and for the first time he noticed that they were quite big. It was an endearing sight.

“Oh.” Bilbo turned red. “I like this very much, you know. Feeling the grass and soil beneath my feet … It’s lovely, especially after some rain …”

“I’ve never tried it before”, Thorin replied absent-mindedly, his eyes – and mind – focusing on the flushed nose.

“Then try it.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Take off your shoes. Feel the grass beneath your feet.”

Without thinking too much about it, Thorin kicked off his shoes. Bilbo watched him as he balanced on one foot to get out of his socks, and he chuckled as Thorin cautiously placed his bare feet on the grass. It was smooth beneath his soles, and the stalks were still moisty from the rain.

Bilbo looked at him expectantly from beneath the big rim of his straw hat, waiting for him to take a step closer. Thorin, however, stayed where he was, rubbing his neck and looking somewhat helplessly at the neat flowers and ripe vegetables. “I’d rather stay where I am”, he mumbled. “I don’t know where to place my feet without doing any harm.”

“Don’t worry.” With a few paces, Bilbo was in front of him and took his hands. “I’ll guide you.” He moved backwards, dragging Thorin with him amidst the flowers. He didn’t stay to the paths between the patches, but moved right into their middle. Thorin followed him carefully, making sure not to accidentally step onto something delicate. But Bilbo led him with confident steps, and eventually he stopped and gave his hands a squeeze. “Do you feel the soil beneath your feet?”

“I do.” It felt moist, not warm in the narrow sense of the word, yet … pleasant, comforting. Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He splayed his toes, felt the earth between them. There was an own scent to it, and he kept inhaling deeply as Bilbo guided him further.

“Do you smell the flowers?”, the gardener asked softly.

He did. Standing amidst them, he was surrounded by their scent. “How are they called?”, he asked. He remembered Bilbo speaking of roses, tulips, violets, but he would have difficulties to tell them apart even with open eyes.

“Do their names matter right now? Just enjoy their scent.” The gardener sounded playful. He let go of one of Thorin’s hands, and he could hear the rustling of leaves. “Here.” He cupped the jeweller’s hands to hold them in place.

Thorin bent forward, closer to the source of the scent. He inhaled deeply, and a smile spread on his face. “A rose”, he said. “Even I can tell that.”

Bilbo laughed merrily, and when Thorin opened his eyes he was met with a tender smile. The gardener’s eyes kept him enthralled, and his own gaze was fixed on them as he lowered his head towards the rose once more. He suddenly felt dizzy, not because of the scent but –

He flinched as a big, warm raindrop hit his nose. His eyes drifted up into the sky – there weren’t any heavy rainclouds above them, just a thin veil, but droplets kept falling on his face.

“A summer shower”, he muttered. “We should go into the house and wait until it’s over.”

“Or we could stay.”

He blinked, surprised to hear such words from the gardener. Bilbo was gazing into the sky, a dreamy smile upon his lips. “Let us stay”, he said before adding a soft: “Please. A summer shower is something wonderful. With soil beneath one’s feet, and the feeling of warm rain on your face while the sun shines …” With a laugh he took off his hat and tossed it away. Then he reached for Thorin’s hands again.

It felt like a dance as Bilbo led him through the garden, moving with him over soil and grass. Petals and leaves rustled as they brushed them, uniting to a gentle melody with the sound of the falling raindrops. Bilbo raised his head, held it towards the rain, and he laughed as the warm drops covered it.

“Come on, try it as well!”

Thorin nodded, yet he didn’t move his head towards the sky. He was still looking at Bilbo. The summer shower was already ebbing away, but it had been strong enough to cover the gardener’s curls with tiny shining drops. At the same time the sun touched his face, bringing out the happy twinkle in his deep eyes. He was breathing heavily, exhausted from their dance as well as from laughing, and Thorin couldn’t take his eyes of him.

Bilbo seemed to be aware of that as well. Smiling softly, he raised himself on tiptoes, leaned over their intertwined hands and grazed a kiss on Thorin’s lips.

Bilbo’s caress was gentle, and Thorin felt the curve of his smile against his lips. It deepened as he answered the kiss tenderly. He closed his eyes, giving himself completely to it. Bilbo’s scent surrounded him – summer rain, grass, flowers.

Thorin’s eyes were closed when they drew apart, and he savoured the taste of the gardener’s lips. But then he blinked them open, and his heart did a jump at the affectionate look he was met with. Their fingers were still intertwined, and Bilbo moved his thumb over Thorin’s skin in circles.

Without letting go of his hands, Thorin took a small step forward and gently rested his chin on top of Bilbo’s curls. He lowered his head, felt their softness on his lips, revelled in their scent.

Bilbo uttered a soft hum and let go of his hands to wrap his arms around Thorin’s back. He leaned his head against his chest, his steady breathing causing his skin to tingle.

For long, long moments Thorin simply held him. Eventually, however, he mumbled a quiet “Bilbo?” into those curls.

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking about something. I know Dís hired you as our gardener until the end of summer, but I … I think it would be nice to have more plants in the house as well. So would you … would you like to stay our gardener for some while longer?”

“You’re doing me a great honour, Thorin, but …” His heart froze because of this little word. It beat again, though, as Bilbo drew back a little to look into his eyes and continued: “I was hoping to spend more time with you – not as your gardener, though. But as something more.” He reached out and placed his hand on Thorin’s cheek. “That is, if you wish the same.”

“I do”, he assured him with another lingering kiss.

Knowing that neither of them would return to their work, they eventually sat down on one of the stone steps. Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo, and the gardener leaned into the touch. He marvelled at the warmth he spread, and he marvelled even more that they were here, arm in arm, his lips still prickling from their kiss. He sighed with happiness as he pulled Bilbo closer, and together they looked onto the garden. The sun was breaking through the last veils of clouds, and the raindrops on the plants glittered like tiny diamonds.

“What a pity”, the gardener eventually mumbled, his small hand resting on Thorin’s chest, “that we won’t see each other for two weeks now.”

“Oh, I forgot. Your holiday, right?”

“Exactly. I’m going to visit my parents. We’ll celebrate mother’s birthday, and I can finally give her the brooch you crafted.”

Thorin smiled despite the ache he felt at the prospect of not seeing Bilbo for such a long time. “I hope she will like it.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will love it! It’s wonderful. I can tell that you put your soul into it.”

Thorin looked at the garden: the neat beds, the lovingly tended flowers, the ripe fruits. “I can tell the same about your work.”

Bilbo chuckled softly. “Thank you, Thorin. I really appreciate your words. I hope Fíli and Kíli like the garden, too.”

“You’ll be back for their party, will you?”

“Of course. The boys were so kind to invite Frodo. They even asked him to stay for a sleepover.” He snuggled closer to Thorin, and both of them enjoyed the other’s presence wordlessly as the sun warmed their soaked skin.

Eventually, however, Bilbo sighed. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I still have to pack my suitcase, and I’ve got to catch my train.” He turned in Thorin’s arms to look at him. Tenderly he added: “I will miss you.” He grazed a soft kiss to Thorin’s lips before getting up. “We will see each other at the party, yes?”

“We will”, Thorin promised. He rose as well, and their fingers were intertwined as he accompanied Bilbo to the door.

He knew how impatiently Fíli and Kíli were waiting for their party, and suddenly he understood their longing for that day very well.

 

***

 

The next day, Thorin sat on the stone steps in the garden again, but this time with his chisel in one hand and a gem to work on in the other.

“Good morning, brother”, Dís greeted him merrily as she went past him, carrying the bright yellow watering can. She moved amongst the flower and vegetable beds to water them. Thorin watched her for some moments, but eventually bent over his craft again. He half listened to his sister, but he realized that it wasn’t as comforting as listening to Bilbo doing the same task. His step was lighter, and he often hummed to himself. Sometimes Thorin had even heard him talking to the plants, his voice soft and tender, just like yesterday when he had told the jeweller that he would miss him.

Thorin bit his lips to hold back a longing sigh. He frowned, but his expression softened again as he looked on the current project in his hands. He concentrated on it once more, and he didn’t look up at first when Dís sat down next to him.

“A flower?”, she asked curiously as she saw the gem in his hands. “I thought the birthday of Bilbo’s mother is this weekend, and you had finished the brooch for her long ago.”

“And I did finish it”, Thorin corrected her. “This is another project.”

“More flowers?” She sounded delighted. “Seems like Bilbo has inspired you.”

“He has indeed. Actually, this gem is for him.”

“Oh Thorin! Why have you never told me that you have a crush on our gardener? I mean, I knew about it, but still …”

He blushed. “Who said anything about a crush? I’m simply crafting something for Bilbo.”

“You are simply crafting something for Bilbo”, she repeated with a chuckle. “Come on! I mean, I’ve noticed how the two of you look at each other. What has happened for you to finally sit here in the bright sunshine and craft a gift for him instead of just pining after him?”

By now Thorin had put his tools aside. He knew that Dís wouldn’t leave him alone until he had told her everything. Moreover, it would be nice to speak to her, to have someone who listened to him.

“Yesterday”, he began, but stopped already. Where should he start, and how should he be able to describe what had happened? Pondering his words, his hand reached up to touch his lips, the lips Bilbo had kissed so tenderly.

And Dís understood.

“My dear Thorin!”, she exclaimed and pulled him into a hug. “So you and Bilbo …? Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

“Me and Bilbo … Yes, I … I think so. Yesterday we … we kissed and … But Dís, it feels like a dream. Now I won’t see Bilbo for two weeks, and I don’t know if it’s true, or …” He finally released the sigh he had hold back for so long. “Just what should I do?”

“I don’t think you have any reason to doubt”, Dís said gently. “You know, sometimes I think Bilbo had already fallen for you before you both even met.” Thorin frowned at her, but Dís patted his shoulder and continued to explain: “In Bilbo’s first three weeks here, when you were abroad, Fíli and Kíli told him stories about you. You know how much they love you, and what they have told him.”

“Fairy tales, I assume.” He smiled softly.

“Most of them, yes. But although their stories of your heroic deeds were exaggerated, Bilbo could clearly see how they adore you. And I may have told him a few things about you as well – apart from how stubborn you can be, of course.”

Thorin thought about her words for a moment. “Learning that I’m not as Fíli and Kíli see me must have disappointed him”, he eventually said.

“I don’t think so”, his sister disagreed. “He wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise.”

Thorin smiled once more – not only because of the wonderful memory, but also because of his sister’s cleverness. She had just gotten rid of his worries by remembering him that it was true, that it had really happened.

She leaned closer to him, her smile spreading into a broad grin. “Would you like to tell me more? I’m always here for you if you want to talk, you know.”

Thorin wrapped an arm around her. “You’re just being curious, Dís.”

She gave him a playful slap. “I just want to participate in my brother’s happiness! Now tell me: Was it very romantic?”

“We kissed amidst the flowers, in the summer rain –” He got interrupted as Dís hugged him tighter with an excited squeak, and Thorin could feel his heart lighten.

He was in love, it was true, and soon he would see Bilbo again.

 

***

 

Finally the day of the party had come. They had celebrated both Fíli’s and Kíli’s birthday with cake and presents already, but today they had invited their friends for a big celebration. Many children were there alongside their parents, and all of them agreed that their former jungle looked breath-taking.

They were not exaggerating. Most people were drawn to the great table with food and drink, of course. Dís had picked many fruits and vegetables during the course of summer already, but there had been plenty left for the party; they had grown beautifully under Bilbo’s care. The punch was delicious thanks to the home-grown fruits in it, and the strawberry cake was eaten up within minutes. Luckily there was a second one waiting for the guests, still stored away in their kitchen, though.

But it wasn’t only the fruits and vegetables. The flowers were wonderful to look at as well. Bright and cheerful they were, and many of their guests admired the clever arrangement of patches and took the chance to walk amidst the flowers. Thorin had done so several times during the last two weeks, enjoying their scent. His walks hadn’t been as wonderful as his dance with Bilbo, but they had helped to ease the ache in his heart.

Now he was standing at the food table, holding onto a glass of punch and trying not to seem too fidgety. He had already caught a glance of Frodo – the boy had been chasing after some other children while they played tag –, but there had been no sign of Bilbo yet. Thorin took a big draught to cover his queasiness.

They had not spoken to each other during the gardener’s holidays, but they had exchanged text messages every day – nothing special, just little notes on the evenings, things like “My mother adores the brooch you crafted for her” and “We had a lovely day at the zoo – one of Fíli’s birthday wishes” and “Dís picked some of your tomatoes today – dinner was delicious.” _I miss your flowers_ , Thorin would have liked to write, _I miss you._ But he didn’t want to push Bilbo or sound too love-struck and clingy, so he had kept those words to himself.

But his heart, treacherous little thing that it was, missed a beat as he finally spotted Bilbo walking down into the garden. He looked enchanting, wearing a white linen shirt, light trousers and sandals. He was carrying two colourful parcels and concentrated on his way down the stone steps. As soon as he had reached their end, though, his eyes were looking for Thorin, and a smile spread on his face as they finally found him. Thorin walked towards him, his heart beating fast with anticipation and longing now.

Fíli and Kíli, however, were quicker than he was.

They had spotted “Mr Bilbo”, too – as well as the brightly wrapped gifts he carried. They ran towards him with open arms, and somehow Bilbo managed to balance the parcels with one hand and to hug them back at the same time.

“Happy birthday, my dear boys”, he said with a smile as he watched them. “I think you’ve grown since the last time I saw you!”

Kíli pouted. “You have been away for a long time!”

“That’s true”, Bilbo laughed. “I’m sorry for not being here on your birthdays. But I brought gifts for you. Here, Kíli, this one is for you. Happy birthday.”

Thorin watched fondly how his nephew took the parcel with a beaming face and sat down right where he was to unwrap it. He squeaked when he saw a bright red bucket including a little toy shovel and a rake. “Thank you so much, Mr Bilbo! Now I can help you with gardening!”

“I’m looking forward to it! And you, Fíli …” Bilbo looked at the elder boy, and he chuckled. “Ten years already! Not much longer, and you’ll be taller than your uncle. I think I’ve got a nice gift for such a grown-up boy!”

Kíli almost dropped his new toys. “A pet”, he exclaimed. “You’ll get a pet, Fee!”

“No, not a pet. Sorry, boys, but your mother would kick me out of the house if I did that.”

Curiously, Fíli undid the wrapping. The gift was hidden in a box, and eventually he held a colourful flower pot in hands. It seemed to be empty – but it wasn’t, of course.

“There’s a little sapling hidden in the soil”, Bilbo explained. “I will help you to take care of it, and one day it will grow.”

Fíli had wide eyes. “Oooh”, he made. “I will take good care of my plant! Thank you so much, Mr Bilbo!”

“Please, call me Bilbo. Both of you.”

Thorin’s heart melted as he watched how gentle Bilbo treated his nephews, and how well considered his gifts were. Moreover, they held a promise for him as well: a promise that Bilbo would spend time with them, would return to them even when his gardening job was finished. He would return to him.

The gardener bent down to whisper something to the boys. They nodded and ran away, maybe to show their new gifts to Dís. Bilbo in turn got up and finally approached Thorin.

“Hello”, he said softly.

“Hello, Bilbo”, Thorin replied. They looked at each other for some moments, both of them not knowing how to react. Eventually, however, Bilbo took another step forward and grazed a kiss on Thorin’s cheek.

“Welcome back”, the jeweller mumbled, pulling him into an embrace. “How was your holiday?”

“Lovely.” Bilbo drew back a little to look into his face, his fingers stroking Thorin’s cheek. “I missed you, though.”

Thorin took his other hand and breathed a kiss on the knuckles. “We have to catch up, then. Would you like to sit down with me for a while? Maybe with a cup of fruit punch?”

“Very much.”

Together they went to the food table and got themselves punch and a plate with snacks. Several picnic blankets had been spread on the ground, most of them already occupied by chattering adults that watched their children playing and running through the garden. A small blanket, a bit apart from the others, was still unoccupied. It was just big enough for two people, and Thorin and Bilbo had to huddle together on it. He wondered if that had been arranged by Dís. He should probably chide her for that … But when he felt Bilbo’s soft form pressing against his side he decided it would be better to thank her. He actually promised himself to do so when Bilbo rested his head against his shoulder.

“It was a nice holiday, but a tiring one as well”, he began. “I’m not used to being surrounded by all my cousins and aunts and uncles. And there are _lots_ of them.”

“Sounds like a big family gathering”, Thorin said while offering him a piece of blueberry pie. “And even louder than here.”

Bilbo chuckled. “That’s true. But I had enough time to spend alone with my parents as well. Oh, and my mother adores the brooch you crafted for her! She wore it every day since I gave it to her.” He took a bite of the pie, and he looked so thoughtful as he chewed that Thorin had to smile.

“It was wonderful to speak to her face to face again. We really talked a lot. One night we stayed up late over several cups of tea, and I told her everything that was on my heart. I spoke about you … about us.” He laughed shakily. “When I was on the train to my parents I began to wonder … Was it really true, or had I just been dreaming that we kissed? I couldn’t believe it to be true. I was all in a fluster, and I wondered if it would still feel the same when I saw you again.” Bilbo gave his hand a squeeze. “Talking to my mother helped me a lot. And just now, when I saw you again …” He huddled closer to him. “I … I’ve fallen deeply in love with you, Thorin.”

“As I have with you.” Thorin lowered his head to nuzzle the golden-brown curls, causing Bilbo to giggle.

“You really like my scent, don’t you?”

Before he could answer, they were interrupted by a high voice calling for “uncle Bilbo”. Both of them looked up, they had almost forgotten their surroundings.

“Frodo, my dear”, the gardener began as his nephew ran toward them. “Is something the matter?”

The boy beamed at him. “Fíli’s and Kíli’s cousin Gimli will also stay for the sleepover! It will be a real party!”

“A real party day and night, then”, Bilbo said with a smile. “Sounds like a lot of excitement.”

Frodo showed him a big grin before running to his friends again to join them in some ball game.

“Speaking of sleepovers”, Thorin began, “would you like to stay for the night as well? The guestroom is prepared …”

“Sounds like a lovely idea. But the evening is still young, so …” Bilbo got up, took Thorin’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “Will you walk amongst the flowers with me?”

Instead of a spoken answer, Thorin smiled and kicked off his shoes. Bilbo did the same with his sandals, and hand in hand they walked through the garden. They often stopped to have a closer look. Then Bilbo would tell him the flower’s name, and Thorin would stoop to smell them and run his fingers over the smooth petals. The gardener watched him fondly as they walked on. They joined Fíli, Kíli, Frodo and their friends for a game of hide-and-seek before getting themselves some more punch and pie and huddling together on their blanket again.

Thus occupied, they barely noticed anything around them. They were only dimly aware of parents taking their children home, of friends saying goodbye, and of Dís bringing the participants of the sleepover inside. The lights of the lampions eventually faded out, and as the air grew chill Thorin and Bilbo walked arm in arm into the house.

The light in the children’s room was already out, but they could hear muffled giggles as they passed it. They went upstairs, and as they stood in front of the guestroom Thorin turned to face Bilbo.

“I wish you a good night”, he said and breathed a kiss on Bilbo’s cheek. Before he could draw back, however, the gardener cupped his face to hold it in position. With a smile, he pulled him into a slow kiss.

“Sweet dreams”, Bilbo eventually whispered against Thorin’s lips before drawing back. He entered the room while casting another tender gaze back over his shoulder. Then the door closed behind him.

Thorin looked at it for another moment. Bilbo’s unmistakable scent still hung in the air, and he felt as if he was dreaming. Unlike two weeks ago, it was a pleasant feeling. He smiled absent-mindedly to himself as he heard a surprised little gasp behind the door and went into his own room.

He was awaited by a lovingly arranged flower bouquet on the side table. He smiled as he took the vase and carried it into his bedroom to put it on the nightstand. Thorin didn’t feel tired yet, so he moved to lie on his side and had a look on the flowers. He noticed that this bouquet was different than the others he had received. There were different kinds of flowers this time, and although he knew little about their meaning it made his heart sing.

Thorin’s smile deepened when there was a knock at the door.

It opened, and Bilbo peeked in. He was wearing borrowed clothes again – Thorin’s clothes that allowed him to admire the bare shoulder again. He was only illuminated by the light of the moon, but Thorin saw the bouquet of flowers he held in his arms clearly. He also noticed the bracelet around his wrist, made of silver and a piece of amber carved into a delicate flower.

Bilbo stood there wordlessly, and Thorin lifted his blanket. The gardener understood the invitation. He came closer and placed his bouquet next to Thorin’s. Their scent mingled as he slipped beneath the blanket and snuggled up to Thorin. His small warm hands wrapped around his waist, and Thorin shuffled closer, nuzzling the gardener’s soft curls.

Bilbo smelt like summer flowers in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :D
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this AU ... and if you haven't had a look at Nerdeeart's gardener!Bilbo art yet, I highly recommend it ;)


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